A Foreigner in Dorne
by starrysky7
Summary: Another day of sweltering heat in Sunspear. But she was glad for the heat, it reminded her of summer days as a child. When she had been young and carefree.
1. A Dornish Prince

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Another day of sweltering heat in Sunspear, and Layla was glad for their far more lax standards of covering than the rest of Westeros, for her only respite was the feeling of the wind against her bare arms. But she was glad for the heat, it reminded her of summer days as a child. When she had been young and carefree.

 _A different life_ , she thought, _I was a_ _different girl then_.

"My lady," a voice greeted, interrupting her reminiscing

Turning to face the person, she saw it to be the young Dornish Prince looking at her with his usual awkwardness. _A plain and solemn boy_ , she thought, _with none of the charm of his sister_. But a good man, nonetheless.

"Hello, my prince," she said, with a small smile, "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing." Quentyn answered, far too quickly, "I mean, I just saw you there and you looked lonely. Well, not lonely, just, occupied."

"If one was occupied then why would you think to interrupt?" She teased, her smile widening as his blush grew, "And yes, I am lonely, I am always lonely."

"A lady as lovely as you should not be lonely."

For a second, she thought she could see a flash of his sister in him. But it was a farce. He did not speak to seduce, but with honesty.

"We are all lonely, I'm afraid. That is the burden of living." She said, "But, alas, we continue."

"What would make you less lonely?" He asked, tentatively moving closer

 _He wants to cure me of my loneliness_ , she realized, _a fool's quest many others had attempted_. For she had a lonesome heart and aching soul. Nothing would ever satisfy her. And if she let herself, she'd devour this poor innocent boy. _He's too gentle for me_ , she thought, _soft and kind and nothing like her_.

 _He thinks me a blushing maiden and he the gallant knight_. But if only he knew the truth. He would not want her then.

"Do you miss Yronwood?" She asked, "I suspect you will return there soon."

"Yes, I will return soon, and I do miss it. It has been my home for many years." Quentyn said, a faint smile on her lips, "It is very lovely there, you would like it."

"And do you have a maiden waiting for you there?" She asked, "One of Lord Yronwood's daughters?"

"I am not betrothed."

"That was not the question." She said, "If you could, would you not wed one of them. Spend your life in Yronwood?"

"Perhaps. I'm not sure." He muttered, "I take it you do not wish to come with Yronwood with me."

 _I might_ , she admitted, _if I let myself_. But the life of a lord's wife was one of constriction, rules and regulations. She couldn't very well pick up all her things and run away on a whim. Not if she had a husband and children. And try as she might, she could not make herself want the life that Quentyn would give her.

"One day, you will find a lovely lady, and the pair of you will fall madly in love." She said, "She will be your wife, and you will have children, and you will be happy. But that lady cannot be me."

All she could manage was to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, before fleeing back to her room, unable to see the heartbreak on his face and know she was the architect of his pain. _He's too good for you_ , she told herself, _much to good, and much to kind, you would poison everything good about him_.

 _He deserves more than you can give_.

 _He deserves someone who is not broken and spiteful and lonely_.

 _He's too good for you_.

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 **This will have a few chapters, but each will act as a one-shot rather than a complete story**.


	2. A Dornish Bastard I

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Nights in Dorne were a respite from the heat of day, though even with the breeze flowing through the windows, warmth could be found elsewhere.

And it was warmth in her bed she sorely missed, for the sheets were cold and lonely. But if she were to bed every man that took her fancy then her reputation would grow, and though Dorne would not care the rest of Westeros might. She did not need a trail of jilted lovers following her north.

But still, when her brooding was interrupted by a man's request to join her, she did not fail to oblige him.

He was tall, his hair a shade lighter than she may have liked, but he was strong-jawed with blue eyes. _I've always been partial to a pretty pair of blue eyes_ , she thought, and his reminded her of a clear sky on a summer's day.

"May I ask how it is you know my name?" She asked, as he took the seat to face her, "Since I do not know yours."

"I am Ser Daemon Sand, my lady," he told her. _A bastard_ , she realised. Forced to bear the shame of his parents in his name. A injustice, she was sure. "And I'm afraid you're the talk of Dorne. Or, at least Sunspear."

"Oh, really." She replied, placing her elbow on the table, laying her chin on top of her knuckles, "And what is it they say of me?"

"Mostly, they talk of your beauty. I suppose not many know you well enough to talk of anything else." Daemon said, "Though, many share wild stories about your life before Dorne."

"What do these wild stories entail?" She asked, "I would very much like to know the past that has been created for me."

"I heard that you came here to seduce Prince Doran," he said, a small smile forming in the corner of his mouth, "That you were trained either in the pleasure houses of Lys, or on the Summer Isles. Is there any truth in any of that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Layla said, raising an eyebrow at him, slyly grinning over the cup of wine she pressed to her lips. Dornish Red was delightful, almost as much as the wine of the Summer Isles. "Fear not, I have no desire for your Prince."

At least, not the prince that he spoke of. Though, if the rumours she had heard were true, Dadmin himself was no stranger to such desires.

"Then why are you in Dorne?" He asked, perhaps with more suspicion than intended, but that was something one becomes accustomed to when they are forever the foreigner

"I like to travel, to learn, to meet new people and see new things." She explained, "It is such a shame so many see so little of the world. It is a vast and wondrous place."

"Prince Oberyn said something similar to me once." Daemon said, seemingly satisfied with the answer, "Will you tell me where you're from?"

"And ruin my mystery," she said, "No I think not. But," she continued, leaning forward, "I will give you one question, to which I will answer truthfully to the best of my ability."

She knew she might regret this offer if his question was not to her liking. And even though she could always lie, she had given her word. If there was one thing she did not do, it was break her word. To a certain extent.

"What do you want?"

It was a simple question, but there was no simple answer, nor had there been one for most of her life. There were too many things that she wanted, and all in conflict with each other. A part of her wanted to live in a house by the sea, with a man who loved her, and children to cherish. Another part wanted adventures and thirsted for experience. And the last part, wanted power and status, to lead and rule.

What was one to do when they wanted everything that life could offer?

"I don't know." She admitted, "But does anyone really?"

"I do."

All he needed to do was flick his eyes to her lips to tell her exactly what he wanted. And she wanted it too. _Kiss me_ , she pleaded, _kiss me, love me, I need you, I want you_.

It was an agonising wait for his lips to meet hers, but if this was what he wanted then he would come to her. This kiss was slow at first, until she gripped the back of his head to pull him closer. It seemed this was all the encouragement he needed, for the kiss grew more hurried, and wanted nothing more than to flick away the table that lay as a barrier them.

But then he pulled away, leaving her lips cold.

"Forgive me, my lady," he said, "That was improper."

"There is nothing to forgive." She assured him, reaching out to take his hand, "Have your wants now been satisfied?"

"No." Daemon answered, "I want to kiss you until all you want are my kisses."

"A noble quest indeed." She said with a sly grin, "My noble knight."


	3. A Dornish Bastard II

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Her days in Dorne were mostly spent with the Bastard of Godsgrace, strolling through the gardens on his arm, riding out on tours of Dorne, and when nighttime fell she would slip from her bed and into his. Even now at the small feast, though what they were celebrating she could not say, she sat by his side. This did not go unnoticed by the Princess of Dorne, whose eyes often found themselves glaring at her former lover.

Slipping her arm through his, she reached over to intertwine their hands, pressing a kiss to his cheek. _He is mine now_ , she thought, _you might be the princess but that bastard is mine_. Still, Daemon did not fail to glance towards her with longing eyes. _Was it the princess or the place he lusted after_ , she wondered, _did he love her even after she broke his heart_?

Raising from her seat, she steeled herself to leave him to his wistful looks. If it was the princess he desired, he would not find a replacement in her. He would not imagine her to be someone else whilst he bedded her.

But her side did not remain lonely for long, as she was joined by another Dornish bastard who linked their arm through hers.

"Enjoying yourself?" Nymeria asked, "It seems you and my cousin have such similar taste in men."

"Daemon is very pleasant company."

"Only pleasant?" Nymeria asked, "Has the man bored you already?"

"He does not bore me," she disagreed, as Nymeria led them out in to the balcony, "And neither did you."

 _Nothing good can come from this_ , she reminded herself, but found she did not flee despite her mind screaming at her to run. She wanted to stay and beg forgiveness, apologies over and over, but even if she said nothing the outcome would remain the same. _You do not love her_ , she thought, _you only want her_. For there was nothing to be gaining in loving one you cannot have, and Layla did not think she even wanted Nymeria in such a way.

"I should hope not," Nymeria said, reaching up to push a strand of Layla's hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't want you to so easily forget me."

 _I could never forget you_ , she thought but dared not speak this words. Nymeria would never walk away if she thought Layla felt so deeply for her, even if it were a farce. She did not love the Prince's bastard, not as she was growing to care for the Bastard of Godsgrace. And even then, that was not love. _It has been so long since I have loved_ , she mused, _and even longer since I have been truly loved_.

"Why did you bring me out here?" She asked, her eyes cold, "What do you want?"

But Nymeria did not answer her question, her eyes aflame as her face neared. Layla could have stopped her as she pressed her lips against hers, but she didn't. Instead, her lips moved in synch, allowing Nymeria to grip her waist to pull her closer. It was only when Nymeria's hand moved to massage her breast through the material of her dress, that she finally shoved the woman back.

"I will not hurt Daemon this way." She declared, "I may hold an affection for you, but nothing more. And if it's not love, it's not worth betraying him."

There was no sadness of her former lover's face as she walked, only anger. _But what did she expect_ , Layla asked herself, _one cannot force feelings upon another_. Even so, that night when Daemon's head was buried between her legs, she could not help but picture darker hair and eyes, and it took everything in her not to moan out another's name.

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 **Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also, I've created a poll where you can vote for your favourited live interest of Layla, you can find it on my profile.**


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